Assorted Flavors
by Sable Fennec
Summary: YAOI. A series of short, UNRELATED ficlets, mostly Elricest and recently some implied RoyAl and RoyAlEd. Beware the fluff, the mildly disturbing, the seme Al, and the near smut in the last chapter.
1. One: Persuasion

Persuasion

Alphonse threw a pillow at him.

"You're absurd," he insisted.

"What," demanded Edward hotly, "just because I don't find it appealing?" His arms were crossed, and he looked away, huffing and grumping. Al, well used to his brother's moods by now, saw him glance back at him out of the corner of his eye.

"No. Because you don't make any sense," he replied without sighing. "Although that's nothing new. I mean, you'd think it would almost be exactly the same as - "

"Don't even go there," interrupted his brother, face flushing darkly in what he would have protested was anger were Alphonse to comment on how amusing it was. Not to mention endearingly familiar to him; that he was one of the very few people who Edward felt comfortable enough to flush that often in the presence of meant something to him, even after all these years. "It's definitely not the same. Not at all." His voice was stubbornly firm.

Al brought out the big guns. "Oh, but niisan - " he coaxed, "I promise I'll do my best. You know I'll stop if you don't like it."

His response was still firm, but obviously weakening. Already the lines of his face where softening into acceptance. "That's what you say now."

Now Al did sigh, leaning over to flop down onto the couch. A brief thought was spared to marvel at the texture of it, coarse and soft at the same time, as he lay his head on his folded arms and peered up at Ed. For his part, Ed's arms started to slip out of their position, and he began to automatically adjust his posture into being more receptive. He couldn't help it; not when Al was looking at him like that.

"Please, niisan?"

Ed grumped nevertheless.

"I swear it'll feel good."

A small flush, and he hunched with a slight glower.

There was a short pause before Alphonse spoke again, and there was wheedling in his tone. "I'll let you do the same to me."

"Why would I want to do to you what I don't want you to do to me?" he asked reflexively.

"Because you like touching me."

Well, he had him there. "Still..." said Edward reluctantly.

Al changed tactics and scooted forward to rest his chin on his brother's thigh. "You never let me do anything for you, brother."

"Of course I do!"

"Oh, really. I'm not talking about when you're lazy and don't want to set the table or do the laundry, and it's your turn for that by the way."

"Awww, but Al - "

"Quiet; you're getting off topic," chided Al, a mixture of gentility and steel that was needed whenever dealing with his brother. "Please, niisan; at least tell me what you don't like about it."

"No," replied Edward stubbornly. That was the _last _thing he wanted to do.

With just as much tenacity, he said, "Either tell me so I can do something else for you, or let me persuade you that it's good."

Ed swayed.

Al saw it and went in for the kill.

"I'll let you do that thing to me you've been wanting to do..."

As expected, Ed's eyes lit up. "Really?" he said hopefully before catching himself and abruptly sulking again. "Not good enough," he muttered. In truth he'd already acquiesced, and Al knew it; he was just being difficult.

"Oh, really," replied Al with something that was almost a dark purr. It was his most often used phrase for his older sibling. He couldn't help it if he was skeptical of most of the things that came out of Edward's mouth when he wasn't distraught. "I guess you won't mind me _not _letting you, then..."

"Um." He latched onto an objection. "And how'd you know I want to do that, anyway?"

"Please, brother. It's obvious." There was a note of teasing in his voice, and not even Alphonse could get away with that completely.

Another flush, lighter with effort. "Well... If you're sure..."

"Oh, very sure," Al was quick to reply.

"I... I suppose."

Al hid his triumph and merely smiled his gratitude, stretching up to kiss the warm, soft skin of Edward's arm. He never got tired of feeling him. "Thank you."

Despite his uncertain shifting, Edward Elric couldn't help but be pleased.


	2. Two: Waiting

Waiting

_A prequel to the previous._

Some days, life was hard.

Things didn't want to seem to calm down, or to even start up again. It was strange, but sometimes he thought that life liked to be difficult. And others he spared it no thoughts, for his brother was beside him and doing such things...

Guilt was a constant companion, a well-shared friend. Edward tried so hard not to let Al feel any of it, but he wasn't naïve enough as to think he'd succeeded.

Which brought him to where he was now.

A hesitation. "Brother?"

"Yes?" asked Al absently, distracted from his book. Ed waited patiently until he found a good stopping point, understanding perfectly, and then Al looked up and gave him his full attention. "What is it?" He blinked as it occurred to him that he'd said 'brother,' and not 'Al.' Curious. With Edward, it was important to scrutinize all the nuances, and he was an expert.

"I... Well, I wanted to ask you something..."

Oh no. This was a similar tone to that night in Risenbourg, and Al'd later learned that Ed had been going to ask if he hated him. This was ominous.

Al shifted over, put the book down, and wrapped his arms around his brother. For some, that might seem too forward, or not platonic, but they knew each other well enough that _not _touching was disturbing. They'd come too far for that. "You know you can," he replied patiently.

"I..." Uncertainty played across his features, but then it vanished under self-control. "I guess it's more... _tell_ you something, and see how you react," said Edward slowly.

Knowing it was important not to become impatient and to remain encouraging, Alphonse nodded and looked at him attentively.

A deep breath, and Ed said it all in one go, rushed out before he could stop himself. "Idon'tfeelthesamewayaboutyou." A pause, and he added hurridly, "As I used to, I mean." He flushed.

Al froze in place. "What _do_ you mean?" he asked faintly. It had been a fear of his, for many years, that Edward would lose his insurmountable affection and devotion to him because he decided that a soul harboured in an armor suit wasn't worth it. Sternly, Alphonse told himself he was being ridiculous, and relaxed quite a bit. Still... He'd noticed his brother's tension for days, weeks, months even – and now it seemed to be coming to a head.

Just what could be so important and revelationary that he was so anxious? It wasn't like him, and that worried Al.

"I don't mean like that." Ed hastened to reassure, voice still rushed, face still flushing, posture still distinctly uncomfortable. Oh, he tried to hide it, but he could never truly hide from Al. "I mean, well..." His features became a deeper red.

"You can tell me," said Al. His eyes were so accepting, and trusting and caring, and it made Ed wince without quite knowing why. Or rather... He was afraid of knowing why he did.

"I... I want to show you how much you mean to me."

In slight confusion, Al replied, "But you already have, niisan. A thousand times over."

"It's... It's not the same."

"If you say so," he said dubiously, but nodded his agreement. "Alright. I trust you, niisan; you don't have to ask."

Ed felt sure he did, but it was now or never, do or die. Without allowing himself to think he leaned over and perched a kiss upon Al's lips. It was chaste at first, the only difference between their previous fraternal ones the skin it was touching, but when it broke all Edward could think was how good it felt. And how much he wanted more.

So he did it again, pressing more firmly, body leaning over Al's and hovering above his form. His automail braced him on the couch; abruptly he parted them, blushing deeply with pleasure, satisfaction and anxiety. Ed lurched backwards.

Or tried to.

For Al deftly snagged his arms around him, pulled him forward, and kissed him. This was definitely not chaste, or platonic, or fraternal, or familiar – it was new and exciting and deep and wet and hot and oh, oh this was _him,_ and he'd waited so long...

With relief and lust in his eyes in almost equal measures, Alphonse said with a hoarse voice, "Took you long enough, niisan."

Ed smiled, and they kissed.


	3. Three: Truest Chemicals

Truest Chemicals

Originally, Roy had wanted to wait until later before seducing Edward Elric. But time – and hormones – just weren't cooperating with him.

It wasn't an emotional thing, and he wanted to make that clear from the get-go. Oh, he knew he had a weak spot an acre wide when it came to the Elric kyoudai, but he wouldn't sleep with Hagane just because he had some delusions about what he was feeling. No, Roy was pretty firmly anti-delusional. Which left him with this: Edward was very, very enticing. He absolutely loved that small frame of his, craved to run his hands down those slender hips and perfect, muscled torso, and found it vastly amusing that Edward himself seemed to find it shameful.

And then Alphonse had his body returned to him, and Roy had rather different things to think about than office interludes and fraternizing with the most tempting National Alchemist he'd ever met. Besides himself, of course.

First of all, he'd yet to see anything more endearing than Alphonse stumbling around in those first few days – weeks – of his return. He'd marveled at every texture, every color and emotion, and he'd veritably hung onto his brother's arm. It had rejuvenated a hope and drive in Roy that had floundered with Hughes' death to see such a far-flung dream realized, and so vividly. That he'd seen them go almost every step of the way, witnessed their tenacity, made the triumph only sweeter.

But it wasn't long before the younger of the Elrics regained his footing, so to speak. He was extremely resourceful and adaptable, after all. And there's where troubles began.

He found Edward in the library. As usual. It was where he looked first, after all, and Roy wasn't usually wrong about the habits of his underlings.

Or at least, he hadn't thought he was. He was starting to wonder about that from the expression on Edward's face.

The anger wasn't anything new, or not when it was directed at the annoying Mustang-taisa. What was new was the set to the features before Hagane had noticed his commanding officer: desperation, uncertainty, longing, sadness. He had not doubt he felt them, but he'd never seen him display them so vibrantly before, and that was unsettling.

"What do you want?" scowled Edward, in true form. Roy noted that he didn't seem any different than usual from when he was interrupted in a particularly engrossing book. But his eyes hadn't been flickering over the pages, and the book was one he'd seen Edward read many times before. It was a thesis written by an old, nearly forgotten, infamous alchemist. Infamous because he defied the church of his time and country to discover the basis for today's generally accepted knowledge on human transmutation. The thesis, however, wasn't a particularly important one. Instead, it was philosophy, and once Roy had discovered him reading it so much he had had to read it for himself.

"What I always want," replied Roy in such a convincing display of innocence that Edward's scowl transformed into a deep sulk. For his part, Roy didn't try too hard to hide his smirk as he took the chair across from Ed. The nineteen-year-old folded his arms, huffed, and looked away. He'd long ago given up on trying to dissuade Roy by seeming to read a book or something. No, that only made it more torturous in the end.

"And that's, what, to pester the hell out of researching alchemists? Not very beneficial to your progress, now is it?" Edward had gotten better over the years at this subtle game of thrust and parry, Roy had to admit. But it wasn't a natural talent; it was a learned one, and that meant he still had weaknesses. Big ones.

"And what progress would that be?" he asked easily. "It couldn't be anything important, not with what you're reading."

_Truest Chemicals _was not as generally accepted as the rest of Hawthorne's teachings. In fact, it was scorned.

Ideas about the real nature of human souls, the effects life had on it, and the group consciousness all living things shared were not particularly enamored by the general populace when they preached acceptance of everyone. Including all races, sexualities, lifestyles, and religions.

Which made it very fascinating indeed that Edward Elric thought it worthy of multiple rereads.

The alchemist's reply was told in a light, seemingly casual voice. Roy could easily read the underlying disconcertion. "You object to what the book says, Taisa?"

"Not at all. Merely wondering why you're sitting here and not out with Alphonse-kun. Isn't that what you usually do on Saturdays?" It'd been some months since the actual transmutation, but that didn't mean Al and Ed were any less attached at the hip. But maybe Roy was missing something; it'd happened before, much as he didn't like to admit it. But not admitting things to yourself – and to many others – was very dangerous, and as a general rule he tried to be as safe as possible.

"Not _today, _apparently." To someone who knew Edward well (and Roy liked to think he did), the hurt was evident. Along with the intense sulking.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because _Winry _wants to take him to the culture festival, that's why!" It was told just a bit too loudly, and the echo resounded in their minds, though not the library. Alchemists were never that flippant in the halls of knowledge.

"And you aren't with them because...?" Maybe he wouldn't have to taunt to get an answer this time. He wondered if they'd progressed that far in their relationship yet, and rather hoped they had.

"_Winry _wants some time alone with _Al. _Says I _hoard him _to _myself_." The scowl seemed to be a permanent feature, and deep set in the lines of his face.

Ah. An old argument, then. "You have been rather... ah, inseperable of late," said Roy delicately, though he made sure to add, not hastely, "But that's completely understandable, of course."

He was looked at with scrutiny, to make sure he wasn't mocking; this was soon replaced by smugness and triumph. "Ha! I _told _them that."

"Them?" He found it hard to believe that Alphonse would side against his brother, but more unexpected things had happened.

Immediately his expression faded into regret and more sulking, plus... was that a shadow of... guilt? "Al said that... That I have to _share _him. That I can't just have him all to myself." Edward said the word as if secretly horrified, like the mere concept was pure sacrilege. To Ed, Roy supposed it was, and this time he couldn't be amused. Not with the desperation so clearly etched in him.

He didn't give him a spiel about how as people grow older and they grow apart. Somehow, he didn't think that would be a problem with the Elrics, and it would have been disrespectful. Roy was hardly lacking in respect for them. "That's true, Hagane. But he's not about to ignore you completely, or discard you. Don't tell me you'd expect that of your brother, because I won't believe it," he said with a vaguely disappointed look.

A faint grimace. "Of _course _I'm not. But..." He hesitated.

Roy looked slightly bored – deliberately. "But what?"

The scowl returned with a vengeance, and Ed said with a flare of anger, "But what if he keeps going off with Winry like that?!" With sudden clarity Roy saw exactly what the problem was, where the real question lurked. It wasn't some petty childhood fear of losing his brother to his friend, or of an unlikely future marriage. No, it was: _What if he doesn't need me anymore?! Then... what will I have left?_

For all his subtlety and knowledge, and for all his attempts at convincing him... Roy didn't make a change in the Fullmetal Alchemist's mood that day. And he loathed himself for it.

That, he'd regret to learn, was only the beginning.

It wasn't so much that Edward and Alphonse _were _drifting apart, but rather that Edward feared that they would so much that it almost came to pass. Roy said almost, because for all the evidence he'd seen to the contrary recently, he couldn't imagine it actually happening.

As it turned out, he was right.

He supposed it was only to be anticipated that Alphonse was impatient for more experiences, and Edward was never patient to begin with. And he also supposed that, since they turned to each other first in every other thing, they'd do it in this, too.

But wondering and seeing were too totally different things, as Roy found out the day he curiously peered in their home's window before entering. What he got was an eyeful, and one he was enjoying very much. Strangely, the lack of sound – for voices couldn't penetrate the thick glass of the windows – only made it all the more appetizing.

Alphonse had his tongue down Edward's throat, and Roy knew it was that way and not the other way around by the dark flush to Edward's cheeks. Their position helped, too. The older brother was against the back of the couch, almost kneeling on the cushions, one arm bracing him as the other looped around Al's back to clutch and scratch with desperation. It seemed that Alphonse was merciless to his brother's plight, however, for he merely held onto his sides with determined strength, eyes fluttering open and closed with concentration. Desire, fiery from youth and suppression, painted both their faces dynamic colors that Roy loved to watch. Not about to be outdone, Edward slid his hand down Al's pants and undoubtedly began to fondle from the abrupt parting of their mouths and evident gasp. The round circle of Alphonse's lips, cheeks smudged with pink, was apparently too much for his brother to resist, for Edward wasted no time in licking and nibbling. Not that Roy thought he would.

It was exactly how he'd thought each would be in bed, and the sight made him most assuredly aroused.

Well. Perhaps those fantasies of threesomes weren't quite as fantastical as they'd seemed when he'd dreamed them up.

Things were looking very auspicious all of a sudden, and Roy's day suddenly seemed much, much brighter. To say nothing of his life in general.

The next day, he scared half his staff into wondering who he'd had in bed the night before by the wide grin on his face.

Little did they know that it'd take quite a few more months to persuade _either _of the Elrics into Roy's bed, because where one went, so went the other.

And that was perfectly fine with him.


	4. Four: Old Cloth

Old Cloth

The old cloth was scratchy, and that disconcerted him. He didn't like being unsettled, but he supposed he'd learn to deal with it. It wasn't like he was going anywhere.

It wasn't like he had anywhere to go.

Absently itching at the flesh of his arm – and wasn't that sensation just as strange- he walked down the streets, wondering at the context and the subcontext of it. Deserted, hardly a soul in residence, dilapidated and mournfully making their last stand, determined to rise until the end. And wasn't that just like _him_?

Enough of this melancholic crap, he thought firmly to himself. Niisan wouldn't think like this. Or maybe he would – he was prone to overanalyzing symbolism and then getting it all wrong anyway. Instead of amusement, crippling pain came with that imagery.

Of his brother, grumbling and scowling as per usual, kicking debris out of his way with the negligence of one too concerned with life to live.

Alphonse really wished he were there. Really, really craved that presence by his side, that one that never left, no matter how stupid and pig headed and irrational he'd been. How could he be stable without him? What was a world that didn't have Edward in it?

Crumbling. That's what it was, and that's what the city was doing, just as his very soul.

He had to get out of here, decided Al with a mixture of anxiety, desperation, and numbed leisure. He had to go find Niisan.

"Junshou," said Alphonse quietly, head bowed in thought. He did not shift, he did not fiddle, he did not fidget.

He was not his brother, and more's the pity.

"Alphonse-kun," replied Roy easily, face carefully bland. His mind whirred and calculated, pressing options and weighing outcomes. No, no – no, it couldn't have happened like that. Since when had a sixty percent chance ever stopped the Elric kyoudai of winning? Since now and then, apparently.

He wouldn't grieve. No, he was past grieving. Nevertheless, the question was obligatory.

"Where's your brother?" Roy couldn't quite bring himself to say 'Hagane,' like he had so many times before. It seemed... Somehow, it seemed disrespectful.

"I'm not certain." Alphonse frowned slightly, looking up at him in perplexity. "I looked all over the place, but I couldn't find him. Do you think Niisan got it wrong, and he was transplaced elsewhere?"

For a moment, Roy's mind froze in pure startlement. And then it moved again, agonizingly slow at first, gaining speed and horrified momentum. It rushed past the things he didn't want to think about, as it always did, and hurried on to the necessities. To life.

"No. I went over that part myself with him," the general said slowly.

"Oh." A pause. Alphonse's mind - and Roy could see this part quite clearly, almost as if through water – scrambled and finally grappled onto something else, relieved. "You don't suppose he thought it failed, and he'd gone off to – to... To look for me?" At the end, his voice was tinged in desperation.

Roy knew as well as he did that it was far more likely that, had that been the case, Edward would have gone to commit suicide. He didn't flinch away from the notion – he knew it too well himself, and it was too intimate a confidence to betray with pity and shame.

"No, I don't think so." The pause was more hesitation, and Roy said abruptly, "Alphonse-kun, have you taken touka koukan into consideration?"

"But – But Niisan theorized that it was just that – a, a theory. We amounted for it, of course – you know we did – but... But it wasn't a primary concern. The earlier experiments showed that it wasn't necessary."

Ultimately, the Elric kyoudai had turned their backs on the very principle that had ruled their lives for almost a decade. Equivalent trade had betrayed them, then and now, and in the end they had shunned it. Shunned it as a way of life, but not as an alchemical law.

At least, Roy had assumed that. It seemed like he'd been wrong, and this time his mistake was to the detriment of more than just Maes or his laughingly important career.

"Do you want help looking for him?" he asked, and his voice was soft with concealed emotion.

Alphonse immediately brightened. He smiled gratefully at him, and it struck Roy that he was a beautiful child. The thought crushed something in him just as the hope for Edward's life did, how the simplicity of them both could make him strive for things he'd forsaken.

"Thank you very much, Mustang-junshou! It's just what I was thinking. Do you mind if... if I go call Winry?" His spirits faltered, here, as if some part of his addled mind sensed that she had a good chance of reaching him.

"Of course not." His tone was brisk. "Please feel free to use my phone. I'm leaving to consult with Hawkeye-chuusa."

"Thank you."

Alphonse hadn't believed Winry when she'd reluctantly, tearfully told him that it was likely Edward was dead.

Had dismissed the idea that his brother could have sacrificed himself just for his life.

Roy hadn't. He'd been thinking that all along, knowing it was a very Edward thing to do for his brother. Shamelessly tapping the phone line for any information Alphonse might tell Winry that he hadn't offered to Roy, he'd pieced together something else.

Part of Al did suspect the truth, and that was, perhaps, the worst of it. Roy himself hadn't given up hope completely, but by now he knew better than to hang your heart on something improbable; Alphonse didn't.

And, when he returned eight months later to give another report, it showed.

Roy was always intensely grateful for the differences between Alphonse and Edward, and he was that without being ashamed. But some days it seemed like their similarities would be what destroyed them in the end.

When he'd finished saying his update on the situation, Al had, as always, stared expectantly at Roy. As if he'd had the answers hidden in his sleeve or a desk drawer all along, and he was promising that he wouldn't be angry if he had, if only he'd give them to him now.

Roy only wished that was the case.

"Alphonse." He was unsure, contemplative. Wondering what the outcome would be. He knew he had to this; it couldn't go on any longer. And he hated himself for knowing it, but he couldn't continue wasting resources like this.

He only wished that Maes was here to reassure him.

He only wished that Edward was here to distract him.

"Yes?" asked the boy when it seemed nothing else was forthcoming.

"Have you..." Roy hesitated, and he wasn't ashamed of that, either. Practical to a fault, so he plunged onwards, saying the words before he could really think about them. Before he could really accept them as a possibility. "Have you thought of the possibility that Edward might be dead?"

Disturbingly, Al gave him a bewildered look. "Of course I have." Roy didn't let himself breathe a sigh of relief, not when Alphonse frowned at him and continued dismissively, "But I know he isn't. He can't be."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not? _You _don't want him dead, do you, junshou?" He was accusatory, and Roy hastened to respond.

"Of course not. But it's a possibility, and we have to consider it."

"No we don't. Not when I _know _it hasn't happened." There was something distinctly desperate in Alphonse's eyes, something crumbling, something fading and fraying.

Like the old cloth of Edward's coat that Alphonse refused to throw away or mend.

Obscurely, Roy wondered how long it had taken the younger Elric to teach himself to walk after he'd been restored.

Winry had told him that he still wasn't quite good enough at it for her comfort.

Well. This time, he'd help him learn how to run again.


	5. Five: Meeting the Sun

Meeting the Sun

"Um... Niisan? What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he replied, much too cheerfully in Al's opinion. His eyes narrowed slightly. Whenever Ed added that bit of a chuckle onto the end of his words, it definitely meant he was up to no good. That was okay, though; he knew how to get it out of him.

Al sauntered up to Ed's turned back and lazily wrapped his arms around his waist. When Ed stilled in a conditioned response – touch, warmth, comfort – he gently ran his tongue down the smooth, golden skin on the side of his neck. "Niisan," he murmured, "I know you too well to fall for that."

"Ah... Ah, well, now – A-Al," he answered falteringly, mind jumbled from distraction, "I – Damnit, Al, I can't think when you're doing that!" Ed scowled, turning a light red when Al used his teeth just _there_, in that little juncture of shoulder and neck that he was so sensitive to. Small tremors ran through him, and his thoughts seemed muffled with cotton, unable to think of anything but the need rising, swollen and heavy and hot in his gut. The book he'd been holding fell from his hands to settle lightly on the table, pages ruffling softly.

Pressing them closer, Al would have bemoaned the thin fabric separating them were it not for how much it was pure torture to his brother. Hard and stiff next to that place that ached, teasing blatantly and without remorse. "You're just too tense, that's all. Always hunched over a table... Take a break once in a while, won't you?" He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Al knew how hard he'd been pressing himself lately and was determined to work out those knots in the muscles of his back.

"I'm busy!" protested Edward, but it was half-hearted at best. "I have things to do – things I can't just, just put off, or – or, oh, _gods_, Al – right _there_ - "

This time it was a smirk, and he shifted his hips subtly once more, maneuvering them so Ed bumped into the table edge. He toppled forward after a bit of carefully applied pressure, sprawling across paper and ink. A soft groan came from him when Al followed, holding himself to his brother's form between the sloping cleft of his buttocks, deftly sliding the black shirt up higher. The pale skin of Al's chest, still unaccustomed to the sun, met Ed's deliciously golden back, both heated from the humid summer air and sticky with sweat.

Much too gently and _entirely_ too slowly in Ed's opinion, Al suckled on his earlobe, swirling his tongue and keeping agonizingly still behind him. He made minute movements of his hips, pressing against his entrance, pressing, pressing, but no farther, just tiny circles made to have Ed panting with want. He didn't pant, but it was close, moaning quietly and scrabbling his fingers helplessly against the wood of the table. It was long and large and stiff and exactly what he wanted, and he wasn't _getting it_, damn it.

"_Al_," he groaned aloud, trying to push back and feel more friction, more heat, more anything, but Al's hands held him effortlessly in place. He maintained the gentle licks on his ear but, if anything, slowed that wonderful, torturous motion he'd been making.

"Mm, yes, Niisan?"

"Don't just – just – oh, come _on,_ goddamnit, _do_ something!"

"I am, aren't I?" And then there was a hand slipping discreetly down his pants, between soft cloth and softer skin, massaging gently and shallowly where the nest of dark blonde hairs lay.

Edward groaned again, incoherent, bright yellow hair messy and coming out of its entrapment. His eyes were dazed and vague with lust, his fingers curled and immobile.

It was exactly the way Al licked him best, prone and trapped beneath him and so willing he hurt himself trying to get more.

That evening, when Roy returned home, he smirked at the faint ink print on Edward's cheek, the tell-tale disarray of hair, the careless organization on the table, the very satisfied just-conquered-his-older-brother smile on Alphonse's face. "Anxious, were you?" he asked lightly.

"Oh, shut up," grumbled Ed.

Al and Roy shared smirks.

"I hope you're not too sore. I've had a tiresome day," said Roy meaningfully, looking as if he rather hoped he was sore just so he could worsen it.

"I _said_ shut up, you bastard!" he hissed back, turning a bright red. With a violent air of abandon only Edward could manage, he thrust himself into his seat and had to grit his teeth against the yelp that tried to emerge. Fuck, that _hurt._

Roy saw him wince and grinned outright. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

"_Shut up_!"


End file.
